Your endless aching prayers
In the middle of the night
To the unseen God
Bring no peace to your heart
And no respite
To a spirit sickened with grief;
The day comes round the same,
The streets, the shops, the glaring light,
People in the day-centre, mouthing empty words,
Dead babies wrapped in newspaper
At the bottom of the garden.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
man that was killing...really saddened me...is there a story behind it? ?